


What's Left of Me

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Developing Relationship, Guilt, Gun Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Officer Involved Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: Rafael sat up in his seat and held out a hand for the file folder that Scott was carrying. “Officer Involved Shooting?” he asked, trying not to sound as intrigued as he was. “Let me guess, unarmed Black teenager shot to death by an overzealous uni?”“Well, you got it half right,” Scott said, handing over the file. “But it wasn’t a beat cop. It was a detective, actually, with—”“Special Victims Unit,” Rafael finished, all the blood draining from his face as he stared down at the name printed in stark black and white on the file in front of him.DET. DOMINICK CARISI, JR.





	What's Left of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I hesitated to write this because I know the subject matter can be rightfully divisive. I wanted to take a very narrow approach to a singular instance, and as an addition to my usual disclaimer, this is not meant to paint broad strokes or make any kind of broad statement about police or police brutality or the systemic murder by police of unarmed Black and Brown people throughout the country.
> 
> Other than that, usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“You coming, Barba? I figured you’d be all over this.”

Rafael glanced up at one of the fellow attorneys working for the NYC Civilian Complaint Review Board, biting back his irritation at someone coming into his office without knocking. Working for CCRB had its perks over the DA’s office, but an assistant like Carmen to stop people from waltzing into his office was unfortunately not one of them.

“All over…?” Rafael asked, waiting for his colleague, Scott, to hopefully fill him in on whatever had inspired him to trespass in his office.

“OIS,” Scott told him. “Kid died in the hospital a couple hours ago.”

Rafael sat up in his seat and held out a hand for the file folder that Scott was carrying. “Officer Involved Shooting?” he asked, trying not to sound as intrigued as he was. “Let me guess, unarmed Black teenager shot to death by an overzealous uni?”

“Well, you got it half right,” Scott said, handing over the file. “But it wasn’t a beat cop. It was a detective, actually, with—”

“Special Victims Unit,” Rafael finished, all the blood draining from his face as he stared down at the name printed in stark black and white on the file in front of him.

DET. DOMINICK CARISI, JR.

He stood, abruptly, and brushed past Scott, who shouted after him, “Hey, wait—”

But Rafael didn’t wait. He practically ran to his supervisor’s office, bursting in without knocking. “When were you going to tell me?” he demanded, his voice tight.

His supervisor, a petite woman named Katrina whose nerve far outpaced her size, glanced up at him before looking to the file in his hand. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” she said.

“Why the hell not?”

Katrina gave him a look. “Close the door,” she said, and when Rafael just glared at her, repeated frostily, “Close the door, Rafael.”

Rafael slammed the door shut, still glaring at Katrina. “This should have come across my desk before anyone else’s,” he snapped. “You know that I’m the only one here who has any experience handling an OIS of this nature—”

“Yes, your work on the Terrence Reynolds case is the reason why you have this job,” Katrina said evenly. “But your history with SVU is the reason why you will not be handling this case.”

“Katrina—”

“You worked with Det. Carisi for almost five years,” she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “You’re emotionally compromised. CCRB’s job is to be objective. We’re not IAB, we’re not the Detectives’ Endowment Association, we’re not victim advocates. Our responsibility—”

“I know what our responsibility is,” Rafael said through gritted teeth. “And I’m perfectly capable of being objective—”

Katrina raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’re doing such a great job of demonstrating that.”

Though Rafael continued glaring at her, he knew a losing battle when he saw one. One of the many things he admired about Katrina was precisely what would get him nowhere: her commitment, above all else, to objectivity. And ordinarily, Rafael was inclined to support her wholeheartedly in that, even if it meant benching him for what was bound to be a media circus of a case.

But this was Sonny. And there was no measure of objectivity that would keep Rafael away from this.

So he turned, file still in hand, his jaw and shoulders set. “Where are you going?” Katrina asked warily.

“Lunch,” Rafael said shortly.

“It’s not even 10 o’clock yet,” Katrina said, an edge of exasperation in her voice.

“Early lunch.”

Katrina stood and Rafael glanced back at her, thoroughly prepared to offer her some excuse or explanation, or even just to tell her to go to hell if she tried to stop him. But instead, Katrina looked at him with something like concern. “Whatever you do,” she said, her voice low, “just don’t compromise the investigation.”

Rafael nodded. “I won’t,” he promised quietly.

“And Rafael — are you ok?”

This time, Rafael couldn’t quite meet her eyes, if only because he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to explain that no, he wasn’t ok, that he wasn’t entirely sure he would ever be ok again, because the best cop he had ever known was apparently no better than the rest of them. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”

* * *

 

Rafael figured he probably should’ve used the ride over to the 16th precinct to read the file on the shooting, but after opening the file and seeing the picture of the vic paperclipped to the report, he couldn’t bring himself to. The thought of seeing his worst nightmare printed on the page left him feeling nauseous.

Besides which, whatever truth there could be found in this situation, he needed to hear it from Sonny himself.

It was the only way he was going to believe it.

He caught a lucky break heading into the precinct — the desk sergeant was new and didn’t know him, just waved him through as soon as he flashed his CCRB credentials. From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out which interrogation room Carisi was in based solely on the crowd of grim-looking Endowment Association reps and IAB officers hovering outside.

Again, Rafael’s CCRB credentials were enough to get the crowd to part like the Red Sea, and Rafael simply ignored the union rep who tried to stop him from shouldering the door open. Rollins was inside, sitting next to Sonny, and they both looked up when Rafael entered, Amanda’s eyes widening in surprise, Sonny’s eyes red as if he’d been crying, and he immediately looked down at his hands. “Barba?” Rollins asked. “What’re you—”

“I need the room.”

Rafael’s voice was quiet but brooked no argument, though Rollins didn’t move. “That’s...not a good idea.”

Rafael didn’t even bother looking at her. “Do you know who I work for now?”

“Yeah,” Rollins said, sitting up straighter. “Which is why this isn’t a good idea. At the very least, Sonny should have representation—”

“It’s fine.”

Sonny’s voice was so quiet that Rafael could barely hear him, but Rollins sagged slightly. “Sonny,” she said softly, “you need to have your association rep with you—”

“I don’t,” Sonny said, slightly louder than before. “I got nothing to hide.”

Rollins hesitated for only a moment more before shrugging and standing. “I’m going to go tell Olivia about our unexpected guest,” she said, aiming it more at Rafael than Sonny, and Rafael managed a cold smile.

“I would expect nothing less.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rafael took a hesitant step closer to where Sonny still sat, still avoiding looking at him. “Sonny—” Rafael started, before breaking off, resting a hand on top of the metal chair to keep his balance. “Are you ok?”

Sonny’s eyes flickered up to his before he looked away again and shrugged. “This how your official questioning normally starts?” he asked roughly.

Rafael cleared his throat. “I’m not...here in an official capacity,” he said carefully.

Sonny blinked. “Then why are you here?”

Rafael sighed and sat down across from him. “Because when I heard…” He shook his head. “I knew I needed to see you for myself.”

“Well here I am,” Sonny said hollowly. “Satisfied?”

Rafael was so far from satisfied that he almost laughed, though he felt no humor at the situation. “No,” he said honestly. “Not even remotely.”

They both fell silent for a long moment before Rafael cleared his throat again. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“Why does it matter?” Sonny asked.

“Why does it _matter_?” Rafael repeated. “A kid is dead. I would think that matters quite a bit.”

Sonny rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together so tightly that Rafael wondered if he was trying to keep them from shaking. “Of course it matters,” he said tiredly. “I just mean — telling you about it. It won’t...it won’t change anything.”

“No, it won’t,” Rafael agreed. “But I want you to tell me anyway.” When Sonny just stared down at the table, Rafael leaned forward. “Would you rather I heard it on the news, or read it in the paper? I want to hear it from you, Sonny.”

Sonny’s eyes flickered up to his, then away again, his entire body tensing. “It...it was an accident.” Rafael opened his mouth but before he could say a word, Sonny shook his head. “I mean, I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“That tends to be what happens when you shoot someone,” Rafael said, a little coldly. “But of course, I’m sure your life was in imminent danger. The 15-year-old kid must’ve weighed, what, 150 pounds soaking wet?”

“Marcus Jones.”

Sonny’s hands curled into fists, his voice shaking slightly, and Rafael frowned. “Sorry?”

“His name was Marcus Jones.” Sonny swallowed, hard. “He was a sophomore in high school. He—” His voice broke. “He wanted to be an engineer.”

Rafael stared at him. “How—”

“His ma told me. At the hospital.” Sonny glanced up at Rafael, who was unsurprised to see tears shining in his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to go, they told me not to go, that it was against protocol, but I _shot_ him and I needed...I wanted to make sure he’d be ok.”

“But he wasn’t.”

Sonny flinched. “No,” he said softly. “He wasn’t.”

Rafael leaned forward. “Sonny, what happened out there?”

Sonny was quiet for a moment, but this time, Rafael didn’t push him, waiting for him to gather himself together. “We’ve been investigating a series of rapes,” Sonny said finally, his voice dull. “Perp was described as 5’6”, Black, young.”

Rafael’s lip curled. “Which naturally meant every young Black kid was a potential suspect.”

“No,” Sonny said, forceful for the first time. “No, he matched the description. Right height, right hairstyle, even wearing the same limited edition LeBron shoes that the vic described. I asked him to stop, he ran. I followed him on foot down some side streets. Lost him in a public housing block, so I drew my weapon as a precaution. I was waiting for backup when I spotted him. I told him to stop, to put his hands up, and he reached for something behind his back.”

“So you shot him.”

Sonny jerked a nod. “Yeah,” he said.

Rafael shook his head slowly, suddenly feeling old and tired and everything he hadn’t felt since leaving the DA’s office. “What was he reaching for?” he asked tiredly.

“His wallet,” Sonny said, his voice hoarse. “I think he wanted to show me his ID.” Rafael sucked in a breath and Sonny’s eyes darted up to his. “You have— Raf, you have no idea how sorry I am—”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” The piercing tang of fury seemed to erupt in Rafael’s chest, matched by the bile he could taste in the back of his mouth. “And I don’t think any apology will make up for what you did.” He stood abruptly, feeling suddenly like the interrogation room was too small, like there wasn’t enough oxygen, like his entire world was caving in. “He was 15, Sonny! He was unarmed! And you killed him.”

Sonny swallowed, hard. “I know,” he whispered.

Rafael stared at him, anger coursing through his veins. He didn’t know what he had expected, what he had hoped for by coming here, but this hollow acknowledgement from Sonny was not enough. “I shouldn’t have come,” he said, turning away. “I don’t know what I thought I’d learn here, or—”

“Rafael—”

Rafael ignored Sonny, straightening his shoulders and drawing himself up to his full height. “You know what the worst part is, besides the death of an innocent kid?” He didn't wait for Sonny to respond. “The worst part is, I always thought you were better than the rest of the NYPD. I never thought there’d be a day where I saw you as just another cop.”

He left without another word, pushing past the small crowd outside of the interrogation room and making a beeline for the elevators. He had almost made it to them when a hand caught his arm. “A word, Counselor?” Olivia asked, no hint of welcome in her expression.

Rafael sighed but nodded, following Olivia to her office. She closed the door after him, her expression dark. “I know you’ve switched sides but I don’t appreciate you interrogating my detective.”

“I wasn’t,” Rafael said tiredly, slumping down in the chair across from Olivia’s desk.

“No?” Olivia asked, arching an eyebrow. “Then what exactly were you doing in there for twenty minutes without his association rep present?”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “He waived his right to counsel.”

“Because he thought he was talking to a friend.”

Rafael met her glare steadily. “Funny, I thought I was, too.” Olivia’s expression flickered and Rafael sighed again. “Believe me, Liv, I have no authority here. I’m not even here in an official capacity.”

For a moment, it looked like Olivia might not believe him, but then she shook her head, her entire posture sagging. “This entire thing is a nightmare,” she murmured, running a tired hand across her face before glancing at Rafael. “What’s he looking at?”

Rafael shrugged, looking away. “With the city’s current sentiment toward officer-involved shootings being what it is? Murder two, at least, though I wouldn’t be surprised if Stone managed to get a Grand Jury to indict on first-degree murder.”

Olivia sank down into her chair, looking shaken. “Murder?” she repeated. “Rafa, it was a good shoot.”

Rafael stared at her, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

She glanced up at him. “I just mean — this wasn’t Terrence Reynolds.”

“How the hell do you—”

“One shot, to the shoulder,” Olivia interrupted, her voice tight. “It was a disarming shot.” She leaned forward. “Do you know how many perps I’ve taken down that way? All of them walked away.”

“But Marcus Jones didn’t.”

Olivia shook her head, looking suddenly as tired as Rafael felt. “No, but Carisi did everything he could to try to make sure that he did. He broke protocol to try to stop the bleeding before even checking for a weapon. He kept pressure on the wound until paramedics got there. He went to the hospital with him.” She sighed, shaking her head again. “Carisi did everything he could’ve done.”

Rafael stood and smoothed his tie before saying quietly, “No, he didn’t.”

Olivia frowned. “Rafa—”

“He could’ve left his gun holstered,” Rafael said. “His life was not in imminent danger and he had no cause to draw his weapon. And then Marcus Jones would still be alive.”

“And if he hadn’t, and Marcus had been the perp?” Olivia’s voice was sharp. “Then Carisi would be dead. Is that what you would prefer?”

Rafael stared at her, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

He honestly didn’t know the answer.

And that thought made him sick to his stomach.

He hesitated a moment too long, and Olivia’s eyes flashed. “You would, wouldn’t you?” she asked, incredulous. “You would honestly prefer that Carisi were dead. How the hell, after everything, can you believe—”

“Losing Sonny would be a tragedy,” Rafael interrupted, equally sharp. A tragedy from which he doubted he would ever have been able to recover, but he felt no need to tell Olivia that. “But it would be a tragedy that he knowingly signed up for when he took his oath to serve and protect. Marcus Jones didn’t sign up for this. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong skin color. That’s what I believe.”

Olivia just shook her head, but Rafael didn’t wait for her to say anything more, just standing, not quite able to meet her eyes. “And now if you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant—” he started, and Olivia stood as well, her expression turning concerned.

“Rafa—”

“Look,” Rafael said, impatient, “if Carisi tells IAB exactly what you told me, if that’s truly what happened, he’ll walk. DA’s office won’t take the risk of bringing charges on a politically charged case like this without it being a slam-dunk. He’ll have to do a couple weeks modified desk duty, at most.”

Olivia looked surprised for a moment before she nodded. “I’ll pass that along,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Rafael said, his voice low.

Olivia frowned. “Why—”

“Because it doesn’t change what he did.”

With that, he left, making his way out of the building in a sort of daze. When he got outside, he pulled out his cellphone, dialing his supervisor with shaking fingers. “Katrina?” he said, as soon as she picked up. “It’s Rafael.” He glanced back at the precinct door, his expression dark. “Yeah, I — I need a few days. I think I need to get out of the city for awhile.” He let out a breath it felt like he’d been holding since he first arrived, or even since he first saw Sonny’s name in the file. “Yes, I’m sure. I can’t be here for this.”

Whatever was coming for Sonny, Rafael knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t stomach being around to witness it.

* * *

 

Every time Rafael came down to Miami to visit relatives, he forgot just how humid it got. Even afternoon thunderstorms weren’t enough to chase away the humidity, and so despite being in Miami and within walking distance of a beach, Rafael spent much of his time in his hotel room in the air conditioning, studiously avoiding the TV or news, just in case he’d see something reported that he didn’t want to.

He knew that any Grand Jury indictment or subsequent trial would take weeks to even begin initial proceedings, and years after that if the Detectives’ Endowment Association played their usual pre-trial games.

But he also knew that until the next police shooting happened or some other tragedy rocked the city, the news cycle was likely to focus on Marcus Jones, and, more importantly, at least to Rafael, on Sonny. And the last thing he wanted to see was every aspect of Sonny’s life dissecting for everyone to see.

Certainly part of him wondered what the prevailing narrative would end up being: would a production crew sit down with Sonny’s priest? Head out to Sing Sing to interview Bobby Bianchi? Talk to the other SVU detectives? Or would they feature the Carisi sisters pleading for mercy for their brother, a good man who would never have shot someone in cold blood?

Whatever option they went with, Rafael knew he didn’t want to see it.

So he met up with his assorted relatives for meals and wandered around the city at night when the heat finally broke, but mostly he kept his head down and brooded. Which was likely the opposite effect than he had originally intended, but he wasn’t sure it mattered anyway.

Five days after he had all but fled from Manhattan, a knock sounded on his hotel room door, and Rafael, who had just cracked open a novel that had been sitting on his bookshelf for three years without him so much as reading the back cover, glanced up, startled. “Who is it?” he called, cautious even in Miami, Sonny’s well-drilled lessons from during the death threats flashing through his mind.

And speak of the devil—

“It’s me.”

Rafael stood so abruptly that he didn’t even notice the book in his hand falling to the floor. He strode over to the door and glanced through the peephole to confirm that he really had heard the voice correctly, and his heart hammered in his chest.

He took a deep breath, straightened, and pulled the door open to reveal Sonny standing at his hotel room door. Rafael just looked at him for a long moment, at the exhaustion that seemed to radiate from every inch of him, at the almost nervous way Sonny stood, as if waiting for Rafael to say something.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to leave New York County when you’re facing first-degree murder charges,” he said finally, because he didn’t know what else to say.

Sonny cracked a smile, but it was fleeting. “Cute,” he said, “but I pled it down.”

Rafael nodded slowly. “Second-degree manslaughter?” he guessed.

Sonny shrugged. “I was aiming for murder two,” he said softly. “Stone tried to get me to plead to assault three.”

Rafael blinked. “Generous of him,” he said, in a way he hoped implied that he wouldn’t have been as generous had it been him in the DA’s office still. “Assault three’s a misdemeanor. You probably won’t even serve jail time.”

“I pled guilty to first-degree manslaughter three days ago,” Sonny said, and Rafael stared at him. “I turned in my gun and badge and resigned from the force, and I’ve got two weeks before I report to Wallkill to serve my five years.”

“Open movement prison,” Rafael said numbly, trying to wrap his mind around what Sonny was telling him. “That’ll be nice.”

Sonny barked a laugh, for one brief moment sounding more like himself than he had since showing up at Rafael’s hotel room. “Yeah,” he said. “I imagine after SVU it’ll feel like a vacation.”

For a long moment, Rafael stared at him, trying to find a way to put into words the thousand and one questions he had, ranging from why Sonny had pled guilty to a higher charge than Stone was offering to why his family had let him spend some of his two remaining weeks of freedom down here in Miami to what the hell Sonny was planning on doing now.

But he asked none of those things, instead taking another deep breath before asking finally, “Why did you come here?”

Sonny cocked his head slightly. “You know why.”

“Do I?”

Sonny shrugged, looking remarkably unconcerned, considering everything. “I think you do,” he said evenly, giving Rafael a look before adding, somewhat pointedly, “I think it’s the same reason you came to see me in the precinct.”

Rafael’s throat suddenly felt tight and he cleared his throat and looked away. “There were a lot of reasons why I came to see you.”

“Maybe,” Sonny acknowledged. “But there’s only one that matters.”

“Maybe it did once. But now…” Rafael trailed off, shaking his head. “You killed a kid.”

Sonny met his gaze squarely. “So did you.”

Rafael flinched, even though there was no accusation in Sonny’s tone. “That’s not the same thing.”

Again Sonny shrugged, and he took a step forward, his eyes dark. “Maybe not. But it took you from the job you had, from the life you had, and it put you on a new path. It changed you.” Rafael huffed what might charitably be considered a laugh, because truer words had never been spoken. Sonny ignored him, his tone turning urgent. “But the one thing it didn’t change is how I feel about you. So now—” He broke off, and Rafael realized for the first time just how close they were standing. “Ball’s in your court, Counselor.”

Rafael stared up at him, his heart pounding in his chest. “I can’t give you what you want.”

Sonny’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Ok.”

Rafael shook his head, frustration edging into his voice. “I can’t give you absolution.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t come here for absolution.”

There was so much that Rafael wanted to say to that, so many things he wanted to say to Sonny, but then Sonny had closed the space between them, ducking his head to capture Rafael’s lips in a searing kiss, and any protest Rafael had left disappeared.

Instead, he balled his fist in Sonny’s shirt and tugged him into his hotel room, the door shutting behind them. They stumbled toward the bed and Rafael sat down heavily when the backs of his knees hit the mattress.

For a long moment, Sonny looked down at him, cradling Rafael’s chin in both his hands. Then he bent and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “I know what I came here for,” he said softly. “What do you want?”

In lieu of an answer, Rafael pulled him onto the bed, kissing him hungrily as he gave into what he had wanted for so long that he could almost forget the circumstances that finally brought them here.

Or at the very least, forgive them.

So maybe he could give Sonny a little bit of absolution after all.

* * *

 

Rafael felt Sonny drape an arm over his waist, and he smiled almost involuntarily as Sonny laced their fingers together as he pressed a kiss to Rafael’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hey yourself,” Sonny said, his breath light against the back of Rafael’s neck.

They lay there together for a long moment in silence, Rafael relishing the feeling of Sonny pressed against him, the steady beat of his heart a welcome comfort. But all too soon, Sonny broke the silence, his fingers tightening around Rafael’s. “Do you ever get over the guilt?” he asked quietly.

Rafael considered the question for a moment. “No,” he said, honestly, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good to lie to Sonny at this point. “Or at least, I haven’t yet.”

Sonny was quiet and Rafael rolled over to face him, drawing him in close to kiss him lightly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Sonny said instantly, tracing his fingers lightly up Rafael’s side.

“Why did you plead guilty?”

Sonny’s fingers stilled. “Because I am guilty.”

Rafael made a face. “You know that’s not what I mean,” he said, a touch impatiently. “There isn’t a jury in Manhattan that would’ve found you guilty had the case even made it to court, and there was a good chance that it never would’ve. You know that, I know that. Hell, Stone knows that — why do you think he was so quick to offer assault three? And if you had taken his deal, you’d be a free man right now.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be free,” Sonny said softly.

“You know what I mean—”

“I know,” Sonny said, a touch sharply. “I know what you mean, I know that I could’ve taken the deal, still pled guilty and yet still walked out of Stone’s office as a detective.” Rafael opened his mouth but Sonny didn’t let him interrupt. “But I sat in the bullpen at the precinct that day, after I had killed a kid, and I looked at all the cops around me — good cops, people I trust and admire — and they all kept telling me that it wasn’t my fault. That it was a good shoot.”

Sonny broke off, pain tightening his express, pain that Rafael longed to kiss away, to smooth out with his fingertips, though he knew he would never be able to. “But there was a fifteen-year-old kid who will never graduate high school because I killed him. And all I could think about was his ma in the hospital telling me that he wanted to be an engineer, and how the Endowment Association was gonna drag out and spin every little thing this kid had ever done wrong, ruining every memory his family had left. And then—” Sonny’s voice broke. “And then you told me that I was just another cop. And that’s exactly what I would’ve been, if I had let the Endowment Association do what they wanted to do.” He shook his head slowly, his gaze distant, his tone turning bitter. “Just another cop hiding behind the same bullshit that they always have. And I wanted to be better than that.”

Rafael was quiet for a moment, tripping his fingers down Sonny’s arm before reaching his hand and lacing their fingers together. “So is that why?” he asked softly. “You pled guilty to a higher charge than what Stone offered to prove you were a better cop, or a better man?”

He didn’t mean to sound a skeptical as he did, but five years in prison was a hell of a price to pay for pride. But Sonny just shook his head, something almost contemplative in his expression. “No, I pled guilty to a higher charge because that’s what I’m guilty of. Do you need me to quote the statute to you?”

A small smile flit across Rafael’s face at the memory of Sonny doing just that, perching on the edge of his desk and parrying every statute Rafael threw at him with the proper legal definition while they were ostensibly meant to be working on a case. “You certainly don’t need to quote it to me,” Rafael said. “But there are mitigating circumstances not found in the precise wording of the law, and I know I don’t need to quote precedent on that to you.”

Sonny’s expression darkened, just slightly. “I killed him,” he said softly. “There are no mitigating circumstances there, or at least, none that I care about. I can never bring him back or undo what I did. The only thing I could do was take responsibility for it, and that’s what I did.”

Rafael nodded slowly. “You’re a better man than me in that regard, at least,” he said finally.

Sonny made a face and shook his head. “Apples and oranges,” he said dismissively. “You were doing what you thought was right.”

“Weren’t you?” Sonny rolled his eyes and Rafael managed a smile. “I suspect that you and I could go back and forth on this point for the rest of our lives, but…” He trailed off. “Speaking of the rest of our lives—” Sonny’s eyes met his. “What are you going to do now?”

“Well,” Sonny said slowly, drawing Rafael toward him and kissing him gently, “I was hoping for a second round of last night at some point—”

Rafael scowled and pushed him away. “I’m serious.”

Sonny sighed. “I know. And truth is, I have no idea.”

Rafael winced. He knew a little too well what that felt like. “You still have your law degree—”

“I pled guilty to a felony,” Sonny said dismissively. “I doubt I’ll be setting foot in a courtroom anytime soon.”

“Well, with a felony record you could always run for public office,” Rafael suggested lightly.

Sonny snorted. “Now who’s the one not being serious?” He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Truth is, I don’t know how to be anything but a cop, and honestly, I wasn’t always the greatest at that.” He reached out for Rafael, who let Sonny pull him close, resting his head on top of Sonny’s chest, feeling his heart beating steadily against his ear. “But what I do know is what I’m gonna be doing for the next couple hours at least. And I have a feeling that’s how I’m gonna have to face the next few years — a couple of hours at a time and figuring it out as I go.”

They both fell silent for a moment until Sonny sighed and bent to kiss the top of Rafael’s head. “I’m not gonna ask you to wait for me.”

Rafael glanced up at him. “I wasn’t going to offer,” he said, but judging by Sonny’s light laughter, he didn’t quite believe him.

“But I would like it if you’d come visit me. At least once.”

“That I’m fairly certain I can manage,” Rafael said, even as something twisted in his gut at the thought of seeing Sonny in prison.

Sonny pulled him up and kissed him properly, cupping Rafael’s cheek with one hand as if afraid to let him go. “I love you,” he said, and Rafael felt his breath catch in his throat. “And I know that you probably don’t feel the same way, especially not anymore, but—”

“You made a horrible mistake,” Rafael interrupted quietly. “You killed someone. And you will serve your time for that. You will live with that guilt for the rest of your life.” He managed a small, if pained, smile. “Knowing you the way that I do, that alone will be punishment enough. But if you’re looking for condemnation from me to add to that, you won’t find it. I care about you too much for that.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” Sonny told him softly.

They lay in silence for a few minutes more before Rafael turned to kiss Sonny once more, against lacing their fingers together. “Five years is a long time,” he told him, his heart beating painfully at the thought alone.

Sonny just shook his head slowly. “Not long enough,” he said simply. “Not as long as it’ll take to atone.” He squeezed Rafael’s hand. “But I guess the one thing I can promise is that I will spend the rest of my life trying to atone, in whatever way I can.”

Again the breath seemed to catch in Rafael’s throat, this time at the determination in Sonny’s tone as much as anything. He knew now — had perhaps always known but now it was beyond a shadow of a doubt — that this was still Sonny, still _his_ Sonny. Despite everything he had done, he was still the same man that Rafael had fallen in love with, years ago now.

And no matter what happened, he had that to hold onto.

So he kissed Sonny one more before telling him in a low voice, “For what it’s worth — and I know it won’t help the guilt, or the atonement, or whatever else — I love you, too.”

“After everything?” Sonny asked, something like doubt in his voice.

“Yes,” Rafael said. “After everything. Through everything. Because of everything.” He twisted his wrist, raising their laced fingers to press a kiss to Sonny’s knuckles. “And I won’t promise to wait for you. But I will promise that whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Sonny’s eyes searched Rafael’s for a moment before he tugged him close and kissed him. “That’s more than I deserve,” he murmured.

“Maybe,” Rafael said quietly. “Maybe it’s more than either of us deserve. Or maybe we’ve both fucked up enough that in the end, all we deserve is each other.” Sonny’s brow furrowed but Rafael kissed him before he could protest. “All I know is, if there’s any chance of happiness for us despite everything we’ve been through, I’m holding onto it for both of us.”

Sonny’s expression softened. “I love you.”

“I know,” Rafael said quietly. Because he did. Because a part of him always had. “I love you, too. And we’ll make it through this.”

Sonny managed a sad sort of smile. “Through five years of prison,” he agreed.

“Three at most,” Rafael said dismissively. “You’ll be paroled for good behavior. And then after that—”

He broke off, and they both just looked at each other for a long moment, uncertainty stretching between them. Then Sonny leaned in and kissed Rafael’s forehead. “We’ll figure it out together,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Rafael told him, closing his eyes as Sonny pulled him close once more. “Together.”


End file.
